Sleeper
by Stefen Smyth
Summary: Chapter 2 submizzled! Wolverine's awake, and he's not happy...but the man in the Red Shades seems happy to see him. RR pimpin!
1. Twice

_Aight, this is my first story under this name. Check out "Future Past" by Esteban Sanchez. Anyway, enough plugging...this story is basically an alternate universe thing, where Wolverine and other mutants well...I don't want to give it away. Of course, all props to Marvel, because only they can make money off these characters. More chapters to come very soon. R/R please! Hope you like._

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James never bothered figuring out how he ended up at the motel. It didn't matter…they had great pancakes. The place was old, wall paper peeling from the corners of cob-webbed parapets. What were those…ducks? He chuckled internally, stuffing his mouth with another stack. The small 13 inch television looked like it barely made the transition to color, the chef coming from behind the counter to smack its frame. Surprisingly, the picture came in clear…the local news.

A few other people walked in, a family, barely able to take in the "rustic" scenery before being seated. They were Mexican…maybe even Native American. That didn't help. His eyes trailed around the room, noticing everyone looked about the same. All except for the guy in the corner with the red shades…he looked out of place. James didn't linger on him long, another plate of pancakes dropping down in front of him.

"You must be hungry? This is your fourth plate." The waitress smiled wide when he looked up at her, wiping her hands on her apron before sliding into the booth. Silence. Uncomfortable silence. It was quiet enough to hear her heartbeat. It ticked a little faster than normal…she was nervous.

"James. James Howlett."

"Rebecca…b-but all my friends call me Reba."

"What makes you think I want to be your friend?" James could feel the expression on her face change, smirking before looking up.

"I'm kidding."

She started to laugh, still not sure if he was being serious. A bell cut the conversation short, the chef looking over the counter at Reba. She waved him off, getting up from the booth.

"Next plate is on me."

"I'll hold you to that." James sat back, reaching into his pocket to free up his wallet. The television was flickering again, and Reba went over to fix the antenna before dropping off a tray of food to the family that had walked in earlier.

_Again, our top story comes from Deming, where two people were killed today._

He was barely listening, but the story at least let him know where he was. **_Deming_**, he thought, **_how the hell did I end up in New Mexico?_** The query made him look up at the T.V. A few others had taken notice. The guy with the shades was paying. Between static, James could make out the reporter standing in front of an abandoned building that appeared not to be as abandoned as it looked. A homeless man had found the bodies after coming in to sleep.

Howlett took a slow breath, running a hand through his black locks. That was the second time. He didn't need to see any more—he knew the two dead people were mutants. What he didn't know was how he'd gotten here. What he didn't know was how both times he'd waken up somewhere he was unfamiliar with, two people popped up on the news dead. Two mutants. It was time to go.

He almost made it out to the jeep when the waitress ran out side, the cook not to far behind with a baseball bat.

"Hey! You didn't pay!"

James still had his wallet in his hand, scanning inside of it before pulling out correct change. He'd need the rest for gas. He handed the money to Reba, much to the chagrin of the cook.

"Sorry 'bout that." He waited until they both made there way back in, the whispers coming in clear as if they were still standing next to him. Stepping to the back of the Wrangler, he spotted it…a black plastic trash bag. He knew what was inside…he wished it wasn't what he thought. He jumped inside the Jeep, throwing up a cloud of dust as he shot onto the road.

He peered into the rear-view. Nothing. Deming was dead, all except the recently built Wal-Mart that had become the new "hang-out spot." It eased his mind until he remembered the bag. He wanted to pull over and dispose of it right there, but better judgment ruled that out. He could smell the blood in the bag, but no memories came along with it. How the hell did he get in New Mexico? Last he remembered, he was in Illinois. That was a day ago…wasn't it?

His hand searched unconsciously, looking for the small car calendar that used to be stuck to his dashboard. He took his eyes off the road for a second, the corner visible underneath the passenger floor mat. He made habit off marking off days, and when checked against his watch…three days had passed.

"Shit…" Three days. It was the same amount of time before. His eyes wandered, the blurry figure standing in the middle of the street not registering at first. He wouldn't get a chance to look again. It felt like an 18 wheeler had smashed into the front of his Jeep, flipping it 10 feet in the air before it slammed to the dry earth on the side of the road.

His vision was hazy…he could feel blood pouring down his face. He'd broken the steering wheel with his face. Air passing over his gums let him know he was missing a few teeth. The blurry figure stayed that way only for a moment, stepping over James' bumper in the street. Red shades. He had red shades in his hand. James felt that same itch he always felt when his body stitched itself back together, teeth already starting to push there way back in place.

_Red Shades_ didn't say a word, just smiled, eyes glowing the same hue as his glasses. That's when James felt it again—the truck—his vehicle cart-wheeling across the prairie and plowing into an old gas station. The ensuing explosion would be heard for miles. Red Shades replaced said shades, walking towards the fireball that used to be James Howlett.

"It's done," he spoke into mid air, reaching down to pick up a Canadian license plate, "The clothes have been disposed of properly. Am I to bring him in for reprogramming, or can I dispose of him too?"

"That hurt, you sonofvabitch…" Howlett stepped out of the fire, on fire, the sound of his own flesh cooking filling his ears. Muscles flexed, releasing the three blades housed in each fore-arm.

"Oh, so you're_ awake_," Red Shades chuckled, dusting of his shirt, "And here all this time I thought I was going to be bored, _Wolverine_." He removed his glasses once again, stuffing them in his shirt pocket. Brown eyes suddenly washed over red, and the humor once on his face was lost, "It's over."

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	2. Dayspring

_My bad, I'm in the military so it's diffcult to get out chapters on even my own personal deadline. Sorry I skimped on this on a lil bit, but I hope ya'll like. Review please and enjoy. _

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**_-Sleep, James…sleep- _**

It wasn't the first time _Wolverine_ had ever been set on fire. The memory flitted across his mind--the smothered incendiary searing the thought in his brain as it did the flesh from his chest almost instantly. It was a war long forgotten…though he had trouble discerning whether the recollection was even valid to begin with. The pain was only momentary, until his body performed its own reconstructive surgery and rebuilt his nervous system. His heart worked overtime, trying to keep him alive…brain triggering an overdose of epinephrine, rational thought steady being lost. He should've put himself out by now.

"_Dayspring_…" was the only word that could escape his mouth while his tongue and vocal cords were still intact. It didn't matter; he knew that the time for talk was done. So did the red-eyed man standing yards away. _Dayspring_ hadn't moved; neither had the smirk gracing his countenance. His confidence seemed to radiate from his eyes…he knew he could destroy everything before his gaze. Even the little man standing yards away from him…on fire.

The distance between them was closed by Wolverine almost instantly, feral instinct barely losing the battle against cogent thinking. His body wanted to take to the air; go into a feral pounce that he was known for…but he knew he had a better chance grounded. Dayspring was a marksman—it was hard to miss what you were _looking_ at. Claws begged to be jabbed into an exposed gut, Dayspring barely sidestepping the thrust. Wolverine purposely over-compensated the swing, letting the momentum take him into a forward roll and back on his feet. He wouldn't get the chance to attack again.

The optic blast caught him square in the chest, the sheer force of the blow extinguishing the flames and sending the mutant flying. He landed with a thud, shattering the scorched earth beneath him.

"It's funny," Dayspring dusted off his shirt, fingers inspecting three slender tears in the fabric, "They told me you'd be a lot tougher." Further scrutiny proved that he was bleeding, although the damage was minor. His eyes had wandered far too long, the crater that once held his foe empty. That's when he felt it, sharp pain jutting down his spine as the adamantium blades peeled skin from his back. He spun so they didn't finish their course, throwing a backhand to ward off his enemy.

The hand smacked across Wolverine's face, and he could feel the bones in Dayspring's hand giving. He took hold of the hand; pulling the assassin's face into his forehead…he needed a reminder that all of his bones were coated with indestructible metal. Dayspring's skull snapped back, blood spraying from his nose as he hit the ground. Crackling energy was replaced by brown irises, a few uncontested tears streaming down his face. Wolverine stood over his _prey, _claws still ejected, knowing this would be his only chance to end it. A guttural howl bellowed in his chest, right fist raised to finish his foe…

_**-Enough!-**_

Wolverine stopped, the loud proclamation resonating through his mind—just long enough for Dayspring to discharge another optic beam into his throat. The weight of his bones worked against him, the adamantium anchoring him to the ground as he cart wheeled end over end through the desert. Dayspring got to his feet, sneering through blood-soaked teeth. His nose was broken; a blemish to his self-image as well as his outward appearance. Screw orders. Wolverine had to die.

Wolverine hadn't faired much better. His throat was crushed, the optic barrage obliterating the base of his neck and severing his esophagus. He could only hope he would heal before his brain ran out of oxygen. He rolled over; feeling the familiar itch…his nerves reconnecting, sinew stitching itself back together. What felt like hours only took a minute, the last strands of cell tissue lining his throat, brain kick-starting his lungs and forcing a breath. He choked on the first few gulps of air, coughing violently before gaining composure.

"You bwoke…by dose…you bastawd!"

Dayspring was standing over him now, fist clenched, nose broken, eyes glowing. But something was wrong. Something was different about him…unfamiliar.

"What the hell is goin' on?"

"You know what dis is. You failed da mission…you hab to die."

"What…what mission? Who the fuck are you?"

The power surging through his eyes dampened, Dayspring speaking into the air again as if someone was listening, "What? What do you mean you lost contwol? Shit…"

James was on his feet, and wasted no time plunging a fist into Dayspring's chin. The slender man hit the dirt like a stone. He stepped back for a second, trying to gain his bearings. **_Where the hell…wait…_, **it all started rushing back, his eyes rushing towards the smoldering fire that was his Wrangler lodged inside a gas station. He plodded around the body, spotting a broken pair of red lenses…**_The guy from the diner…_**

"James!"

He turned around, Reba reaching over to push her passenger side door open. She motioned for him hurriedly, and he jumped inside before he could think otherwise.

"Everybody's coming…cops, fire department…you can see the smoke for miles. What happened? I don't remember you having any drinks at the diner. Why are you naked?"

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"I…I lost the connection."

"**It was inevitable."**

"I'm sorry."

"**Don't be, my love. Like I said, it was inevitable. His body is in a constant state of reconstruction. There was no way you could hold him for long. We just have to go about it different next time around."**

"What about Dayspring?"

"**Wake him."**


End file.
